Hunter nervously laughs, rolling his eyes. Around these
parts, there are always rumors. The Twins are living on borrowed time. This
team wasn't even supposed to be alive today. Commissioner Bud Selig announced
two days after last year's World Series that two teams would be contracted 
the Minnesota Twins and Montreal Expos were the ones most often mentioned. They
knew things were bad, but come on, eliminated?

The Twins' players spent all winter calling one another,
worried sick about being scattered throughout the league. It was bad enough
that Minnesota traded Matt Lawton at least year's trading deadline, but now
they were all being traded, potentially. Worse, their own owner, Carl Pohlad,
was the one volunteering to eliminate them, giving it all up for a fat payoff.

"I thought we were gone," Hunter, 27, says. "I think we
all did. I'm checking to see where I'll go in the dispersal draft.

"It was like one big family being broken up and sent away
to different homes."

Through the miracle of the court system, the Twins were
kept alive.

And like unwanted guests who somehow got in the door, guess
who is about to crash this year's playoff party?

Yep, those lovable Minnesota Twins.

The Twins, who have perhaps the closest-knit clubhouse
in the American League, have run away with the AL Central race. They lead the
Chicago White Sox by a whopping 17 games, and considering that no other team
in the division is on pace to finish with more than 75 victories, the Twins
could actually wrap up the division within a week.

The Twins' players might be quietly discussing plans to
spend their playoff money, but manager Ron Gardenhire is making sure that no
one is looking too far ahead. The Twins did that a year ago, and it cost them,
as a 5 1/2-game lead in July turned into a 6
1/2-game deficit by August.

"We were kind of scared (of) what was happening," Hunter
says. "We were in first place, and it was, like, 'What are we supposed to do?'
We were looking at the scoreboard, always checking to see what Cleveland was
doing. We were in the middle of a game, and we'd be asking each other, 'Hey,
what is Cleveland doing?'

"We were so worried about them that we forgot about ourselves."

The Twins have taken care of that this year, going a major
league-best 19-4 since the All-Star break. They don't know who they're playing
each night, let alone their magic number (33). But once they officially clinch,
they're going to throw a party like the Twin Cities have never seen.

"Hey, after everything we've been through, we got a whole
lot of celebrating to do," says Twins All-Star closer Eddie Guardado, who has
the longest tenure on the team, dating back to '93. "Believe me, it's been a
long time since we've had anything to cheer about."

They'll probably have to spring for the champagne and balloons
themselves. They might even have to hire their own clean-up crew. No one has
given them anything all year. Why should they start now?

"That's the weird part of this," Hunter says, "playing
for an owner of a team who doesn't really want us to win. He wanted us to be
contracted. Here we are trying to win the division, and people say he's still
trying to contract us.

"I'm sure now, it's like, he's happy on one hand, but pissed
off at the same time."

The Twins players, who say that Pohlad hasn't stepped inside
their clubhouse all season, feel as if they're reenacting a real-life version
of the movie Major League. You remember the story line. The Cleveland
Indians are downtrodden and the owner wants them to keep losing so she can dump
the team. The only difference in this skit is that there's no Charlie Sheen,
and there's nothing phony about this talented team.

They are real. They are good. And they are just one game
behind the New York Yankees for the best record in the American League. And
considering the Twins have only 17 games remaining against teams with a winning
record, they well could wind up with the home-field advantage throughout the
playoffs.

"We all hate the Metrodome. They should blow the place
up," Hunter says. "But at the same time, it gives us an advantage because everyone
hates coming here.

"I've heard all the stories, but I can't imagine what this
place is going to be like with 55,000 fans screaming.

"And I can't wait to find out."

HUNTER WALKS IN THE DOOR with his wife, and son, Torii
Jr., 7, at Champps restaurant in Eden Prairie, Minn., just a quick 12-minute
drive from their apartment.

It's Sunday night. They don't want anything fancy. Just
a quick meal, and back to the apartment for a little TV before bed.

Hunter has been here dozens of times the past few years,
and more often than not, isn't recognized. There were plenty of times folks
probably realized his identity, Hunter figures, but hey, when you're with the
Twins, who cares? It's not like he was a fourth-string cornerback for the Vikings.

"I've come here a lot of times, and nobody has ever said
a word," says Hunter. "Two years ago, people didn't know who I was. But, it's
not like anybody cared about the Twins, either. I mean, I remember that place
being so quiet I could actually hear fans talking in the stands. I knew what
they did last night. What they were going to do that night. And what they were
going to do the rest of the week."

These days, as Hunter discovers this night, life is different.
Hunter is immediately greeted by the hostess by name, and escorted to a table.
He orders a Cajun chicken sandwich, but he barely places his order before fans
started lining up at the table. Suddenly, nearly every table in the restaurant
is empty. They're all standing in line for Hunter's autograph.

They congratulate Hunter on his season, leading the team
in everything, hitting .315 with 24 homers and 72 RBI. They congratulate him
on the Twins, who are on pace to win 100 games, their most since 1965. And they
feel compelled to tell him exactly what they were doing, and where they were,
that magical night in October of 1987 when the Twins won their first World Series.

Hunter, whose personality and community work makes him
one of the most popular Minnesota players since Kirby Puckett, talks to each
one of them. He smiles when folks bring up their memories of the '87 Series,
but doesn't have the heart to tell them he was in sixth grade at the time and
doesn't remember a thing.

A few have the courage to ask about the throw, the
night Hunter lost his cool. He was hit in the ribs by Cleveland Indians pitcher
Danys Baez a month ago, and he responded by whipping the baseball right back
at him.

"The ghetto came out in me," Hunter says, laughing. "I
don't know what happened to me, I just lost it. I was mad just because it hurt,
more than anything. The pain was intolerable.

"But 10 minutes after I did it, I'm thinking, 'What did
I do? What did I just do?' I felt so bad about it, but that night, I must have
gotten about 40 calls from players around the league, guys like Marlon Anderson
and Brian Hunter, saying, 'Sweet! You're my hero! I wish I had the guts do to
that.'

"But I felt bad because you know there were kids watching,
and I'm trying to be a better role model than that."

And, of course, they wanted to talk about the catch.

The 2002 All-Star Game might be remembered for its non-conclusion
in most households across the country, but for the folks in Minnesota and Pine
Bluff, Ark., it will be forever known as Hunter's coming-out party.

Hunter, elected by the fans as the starting center fielder,
still had trouble believing he was an All-Star. He invited 15 friends and family
to tag along. He paid for everything, renting a limousine, taking them to every
event. Even when he hit just three home runs in the home-run derby, he was still
jacked, realizing that Barry Bonds and Alex Rodriguez had only two apiece.

"Hey, at least for one night, I can always say I had more
homers than Barry and A-Rod," Hunter says, giggling.

While no one outside Hunter's family might remember Hunter's
performance in the home run derby, nearly every fan will be able to tell you
about the catch.

Ironically, it was Bonds again who made Hunter's night.
He smacked a towering fly ball headed over the center-field fence. Right fielder
Ichiro Suzuki looked up but didn't even attempt to go for the ball. There was
Hunter, racing to the fence, leaping up, and snagging the ball over the fence,
and pulling it back in, making one of the best catches in All-Star Game history.

"To this day, and I've watched the tape several times,"
Hunter says, "I still don't know how I made that catch."

Hunter ran toward the infield, excitedly waving the ball.
Bonds, whom Hunter had never met, waited on the dirt to high-five him. Hunter
stuck out his hand, but he suddenly found himself thrust in mid-air, with Bonds
playfully lifting him up and carrying him on his shoulder.

"That is one strong cat," Hunter says. "He did that with
one arm. I couldn't believe it. Everybody I ran into after that says, 'Do you
think he was mad? Do you think he wanted to throw you down?'

"I told them, 'You know, I'm sure he was mad, but with
everybody watching and all of the kids out there, nah, he couldn't do it.' "

Hunter, who won his first Gold Glove last season, calls
it his greatest catch, considering the national spotlight. Yet, in terms of
difficulty and style, well, Hunter's teammates wonder if it even ranks among
the Top 10.

"Everybody was going crazy on our bench," says Twins' All-Star
catcher A.J. Pierzynski. "They're going, 'Did you see that? Did you see that?
What a catch.'

"I just sat back and said, 'Been there, done that. He does
it all of the time.' "

TWINS GENERAL MANAGER TERRY RYAN, who spent all winter
working toward a season he knew might not come, is sitting in the quiet of his
cramped office. It's the day after the trading deadline. The phone actually
stopped ringing days ago. There was no reason to make any trades. They haven't
spent more than $500,000 on a free agent in more than two years, so they surely
wouldn't take on any salary now.

The real headache could come this winter. The payroll is
expected to be kept at $41 million. Considering the Twins have four everyday
players eligible for salary arbitration  Hunter, left fielder Jacque Jones,
first baseman Doug Mientkiewicz and Ortiz  and $7.3 million due in raises
to five other signed players, it doesn't take a degree from MIT to realize that
a few players have to go.

Ryan doesn't even want to think about those woes until
this winter. He's had enough of the bad times, let him enjoy the good times.
And who knows, with attendance expected to top two million for the first time
since 1993, and with 500 season tickets sold in the past two weeks, maybe they'll
increase the payroll.

Yet, the Twins' players believe the formula is cut and
dried. Win, and they've got a chance to stay together. Lose, and they might
be split up before the first snowfall.

"That's why we have to win now," Hunter says. "You don't
know what will happen later. We could go win the playoffs, and go to the World
Series, and they could still be saying, 'We can't increase our payroll, and
we're going to have to trade you guys.'

"You hate to think about it, but it's something we've all
talked about. We didn't want to be broken up last winter, and we don't want
to be broke up now."

Hunter, who plans to buy a home in Minneapolis if he signs
a long-term contract this winter, actually could use the extra room just to
accommodate his family and friends. The Twins haven't even officially made the
playoffs yet, but 200 friends and relatives from Pine Bluff and Little Rock
are already making travel plans for the World Series.